Dragon Age: Origins CouslandxAmell
by LostKingdom
Summary: Follow Grey Wardens in Ferelden during The Blight through the interchanging viewpoints and exploits of chaotic good Aedan Cousland and lawful good Solona Amell. The tale covers romances, dialogue and party banter, and both main characters will alternate having the point of view with their respected mabari warhound.
1. Prologue

The fan fiction follows Grey Wardens in Ferelden during The Blight through the interchanging viewpoints and exploits of chaotic good noble Aedan Cousland and lawful good mage Solona Amell.

The prologue was written by me and edited by my good friend Heather. It introduces the lively mage Solona who is recruited from the Circle of Magi under suspicious circumstances by the Grey Warden Commander, Duncan. She is left in charge of former templar Alistair as the two journey to join the King's army south in Ostagar while their superior assembles allies for the war against the darkspawn in Highever.

**Disclaimer**

I do not own any of the character of Dragon Age, nor the world itself, Thedas. They are all the property of Bioware and EA Games.

Prologue

Looming over the dark waters of Lake Calenhad was the tower of the Circle of Magi. This was where mage apprentices went to learn how to become proper mages. It was here that the mages of Ferelden learned various spells, as well as how to deal with demons- creatures notorious for infecting such places and morphing their victims into abominations. Alistair marveled at the mammoth size of the stronghold, its amplitude only accentuated by the sun set. How many mages could a place like that hold? He had never befriended a mage of The Circle before, even while training as a templar. The former Chantry servant was frustrated that Duncan had left him standing on the docks. He had waited an entire day for his Grey Warden superior to return with news of the Circle's additions to King Cailan's army, which was fighting the darkspawn south at Ostagar.

He had passed most of the day eating cheese and sipping ale in The Spoiled Princess -the only inn for miles around. It was a small establishment with more than a few shady characters lurking in comber candlelight behind tables or amidst thin clouds of smoke from pipe weed.

The fresh air and the panoramic view out on the docks proved to be a baffling contrast from that tavern, except maybe the ferryman. The ferryman, Kester, he was something else.

"Since it is best known as the Tower of the Circle of Magi these days, many people forget that the great tower sitting in the middle of Lake Calenhad existed long before the Circle", he said folding his arms over his weathered plaid shirt. The man was good for a laugh, which Alistair found far more favorable than the shadows of the nearby inn. The bitter old man was slightly racist however, referring to elves often in conversation as "knife-ears" without even realizing it.

"Kinloch Hold" Kester had called the tower though he seemed to want to say little more about The Circle and more about his boat, Lizzie.

N_amed after his Grandmum, it was_.

As the sun was beginning to set low on the horizon, Kester had begun rowing the ferry back across the lake at the request of the templars. Alistair stared out at the timeworn crumbling remnants of what was once a durable bridge from Kinloch Hold to the shoreline. The once lively afternoon sky had just transformed into a massive, flowing orange ceiling as the ferry began making its way back toward the dock where Alistair stood waiting patiently for Duncan. The tower appeared menacing- a formidable blood red foe- juxtaposed by the Ferelden skyline. And the ferry drew ever closer. From dockside he could make out three figures standing on the ferry; one person, whom he assumed was Duncan, was wearing armor.

Who was this third person?

Could it be a mage of The Circle?

Perhaps a new Grey Warden recruit?

As the excitement rose inside him the natural light around him dimmed more by the minute. It was fully dusk by the time the ferryman and his two passengers reached the docks.

The ferry drifted back and forth as Duncan steadily stepped onto the docks and looked over toward Alistair.

"I trust things went well with The Circle?" Alistair asked strolling over to his fellow Grey Warden.

"The Knight Commander and First Enchanter refused to send additional mages to aid the army of the King. But I wouldn't say our trip was unsuccessful," Duncan held out his hand to the ferry's second passenger, who could be described through no detail beyond a hooded cloak masking, maybe, a medium sized body beneath it. As the unknown party stepped off the boat a pale hand emerged from beneath the regal purple cloth and found Duncan's grip. An intricate mage's staff emerged from beneath the cloak and was placed with a timid _thunk_ onto the docks in front of the figure; it was a walking stick of unthinkable power. The stranger stepped forward and pulled back the hood of their mantle. She was a human mage with snow white skin and a blanket of mesmerizingly luminous blond hair. She bore a grim expression as she looked up at Alistair with eyes that mimicked the brilliance of sapphires.

"A pleasure to meet you, I'm Alistair" he blurted, sounding more cheerful than intended. He extended his hand in front of him as a gesture of greeting and assumed it would be well received by the mysterious beauty. With an uncertain gaze she looked down at his hand, then back up to meet his gaze. Alistair lowered his hand slowly and looked to Duncan inquisitively.

"Alistair, I would like for you to meet our newest Grey Warden recruit, Solona Amell, formerly of the Circle of Magi," Duncan stated as he waved his hand casually before the mage, a gesture which feigned thoughtfulness though his thoughts were elsewhere. She inhaled deeply, and in greeting managed a shallow bow and a nervous smile; as she bowed Alistair noticed Solona's orange mage robes beneath her cloak.

"This is her first time outside of the tower since she arrived as a young child. Many things you and I take for granted will be strange to her, but I'm sure you'll be able to teach her enough about the Blight by journey's end at Ostagar". Alistair clasped his hands together and grinned from ear to ear, "I'm sure we're all anxious to head south and exterminate some darkspawn".

Duncan stepped forward with one arm gently nudging Solona away from the ferry, "I won't be joining you in Ostagar for at least a month. I'm going to make my way north from Redcliffe through The Bannorn toward Highever. I must receive word from Arl Eamon and Teryn Cousland for King Cailan." Alistair was just about to open his mouth and argue his case to continue traveling with Duncan but before the breath had left his lips the sharp tone of the Warden Commander cut him off. "Every new Grey Warden recruit will be vital in the battles to come. I entrust you with the passage of our new friend," he stated firmly. Alistair nodded compliantly and looked anxiously toward his new cohort. Solona's eyes were fixated on the water's surface which now reflected the dangerously red hue of the setting sun.

"Solona?" inquired Duncan. She slowly turned her head upward and met his gaze. "Alistair is a new Grey Warden but you can trust him, we'll meet again before you know it. Ostagar is only a few weeks of uneventful travel to the south," the Warden Commander attempted to convince the mage in her tentative emotional state. Solona nodded and managed a quiet, timid thank-you, her voice was no louder than a single drop of water hitting the infinite lake and the sweet, pure tone filled her company with ease.

"How could you possibly call The Hinterlands uneventful, Duncan?" Alistair questioned, raising an eyebrow emphatically.

Duncan smirked and looked over to the Grey Warden's latest addition. "Solona is a very capable woman, I'm sure a little danger like a few darkspawn won't be the death of the two of you."

Alistair also looked to Solona, "You know, I've never seen a mage in action outside of The Circle of Magi. I'm curious to see what you can do."

Duncan smiled back at Solona as he stepped briskly along the dock toward the shore, he grabbed Alistair mildly by his forearm, "Might I have a word alone before I depart?"

Alistair subtly turned around and followed, listening to the Warden Commander. "I realize this is a rare opportunity to learn but you mustn't bombard her constantly with questions, especially about…" his voice trailed off and Solona's attention was grabbed by the ferryman standing on the raft behind her.

"I imagine you have something to do with the ongoing maleficarum hunt," Kester inquired curiously and leaned his aching bones on the pole he used to push his beloved Lizzie.

Solona studied the ferryman for a moment then leaned on her staff to mimic the positioning she had observed and rebutted, said, "Kester, I am not maleficarum. Lily and Jowan's fates are sealed and there's nothing I can do about it now. No matter how badly I wish I could go back and do things differently I just cannot."

Kester laughed and inclined on the pole even more. "I know you can take care of yourself, my lady, but do you really think running off to fight darkspawn is your best option? Is it going to be a better alternative than Aeonar?"

Solona scoffed at his last question as she too leaned more on her staff. She smiled sweetly at the ferryman but her glance shot upward when her named was called from the shore. Alistair was standing at the end of the dock. Duncan was nowhere to be found. Solona stood up straight and took a steady, calming deep breath in; she needed the moment to tame her nerves.

"May the Maker watch over you, m'lady," said Kester with a genuine smile.

She looked down at the ferryman one last time, "May He watch over us all"; her reply carried an air of composure as she started toward the shoreline.

"Where is Duncan?" Solona inquired.

"He has started across the lake to Redcliffe, but no matter- he'll be back in our graces before you know it," replied Alistair; the orange-red flush of the setting sun reflected off his splintmail as he turned his back on The Circle Tower. "How is it exactly that you haven't been outside the tower since before you came to join The Circle?" he questioned raising an eyebrow. Solona also turned her back on the tower but found herself doing so without the confidence she had come to expect from herself in tense situations.

"Mage apprentices are not permitted to leave the tower," was all she could bring herself to state.

"So you're an apprentice?"

"No, I am a fully declared mage."

"How long have you been a fully declared mage for?"

Solona paused and lowered her head slightly in shame.

"Only a day."

Alistair chuckled and crossed his arms as he probed further.

"What did you do to catch Duncan's attention so effectively?"

Solona turned back to face Lake Calenhad; she saw the reflection of faint stars now dancing on its surface as the sun sunk farther from sight. She pulled her hood back up over her head as the cold of the world outside The Tower of Magi chilled her to the bone.

"You sure do ask a lot of questions," an exasperated sigh slipped from her lips but her eyes remained fixed on the lagoon. Alistair turned and stepped up next to her, the gesture accentuated the fact that he was just over one head taller than his magical charge. "I can do a lot more than that, I actually used to be a templar but I am a fully declared Grey Warden as of five months ago."

Solona winced slightly at the mention of _templar_ but otherwise her attention belonged entirely to the lake.

Silence ensued.

The Grey Warden , however, refused to remain in the discomfort of silence. He took a deep breath before continuing his brief monologue, "You see there was a tourney and I fought my very hardest but I didn't win and Duncan was still impressed and I was so eager to take up sword and shield for the Grey Wardens and we were fighting the most ferocious evil Thedas has seen since the last Blight and..."

At last Solona tore her gaze from the distance and looked up at Alistair, her eyes again twinkling with a sapphire shine. "You are happy with the path you have chosen to take, then?" she questioned, with spark of desire lighting her tone. He nodded and beamed with pride, "Oh, most definitely; Duncan saved me."

Solona bit her lip uneasily and with a final breath beheld the monumental Circle Tower one last time, "Me too."


	2. Chapter 1

My fan fiction follows Grey Wardens in Ferelden during The Blight through the interchanging viewpoints and exploits of chaotic good noble Aedan Cousland and lawful good mage Solona Amell.

I wrote this chapter in collaboration with my good friend Heather. It tells the tale of Aedan Cousland; a young man born into wealth and power, such honours which fall second only to his royal status. He finds his training in both diplomacy and war put to the test when his father's castle is betrayed from within on the very night his elder brother leads the family's forces to war.

**Disclaimer**

I do not own any of the character of Dragon Age, nor the world itself, Thedas. They are all the property of Bioware and EA Games.

Highever

Scores of soldiers under the banner of House Cousland stood ready to march in the courtyard of Castle Cousland in Highever. Forty men outfitted in pristine chain and splint mail carried swords and shields bearing the sigil of the house: crossed green branches. For generations the Couslands had stewarded the lands of Highever earning the loyalty of the people with justice and temperance. The Teryn, Bryce Cousland, was the head of one of the most powerful noble houses in Ferelden, his only equal was said to be Teryn Loghain Mac Tir. Today was the day the Teryn intended to march to the aid of the King of Ferelden once more with his eldest son Fergus Cousland. Their service to The Crown resided in the south where the bestial darkspawn were uprising.

Stone arches lines the daunting walls of the castle's main hall. Delicately hand crafted wooden beams framed the arches and reached up to form a sturdy ceiling. An emerald carpet, the colour of the Provence's crest, stretched from wall to wall; its grandeur mirrored the warmth and welcome of a spring meadow on a pleasant, sunny day. Such an effect was appreciated in a place where snow was the main guest. At the far end of the hall stood a mammoth fireplace which blazed ferociously heating the cavernous space with ease. The Teryn stood before the fireplace; the soothing red-amber glow that framed the man suited his comforting disposition. But this day was not a day for comfort. With hands clasped firmly behind his back, the Teryn met the arrival of his long awaited comrade- Arl of Amaranthine.

An icy blast of bitter wind entered with the guest. It was a challenge to keep the cold out of the castle rooms and corridors when the estate and the surrounding countryside were sprinkled lightly with snow. Although an unsettling chill crept into the manor's main room, the Teryn stood assertively surrounded by his best and brightest and this especially included Arl Rendon Howe.

"I trust then that your troops will be here shortly," the Teryn statement echoed sharply throughout the hall.

"I expect they will start arriving tonight and we can march tomorrow. I apologize for the delay, my Lord. This is entirely my fault," Arl Howe pleaded humbly to his Lordship. Teryn Cousland turned away from the consoling blaze and faced his old friend with a smile.

"No-no, the appearance of darkspawn in the south has us all scrambling, doesn't it? I only received the call from The King a few days ago myself." As he spoke, look of unease distorted the Teryn's usually kind face. As he paced toward the Arl his hands fell stiffly by his sides. "I'll send my eldest off with my men. You and I will ride tomorrow just like the old days."

Bryce stopped before Rendon and smiled, placing his hands behind his back once more. Arl Howe would indulge his Lord in a brief reminiscence, "Though we both had less grey in our hair then and we fought Orlesians, not monsters." The Teryn threw his hands up as he laughed as he concluded, "At least the smell will be the same."

A side door to the main hall creaked open letting in a frigid flurry from the corridor making the hinges whine. A young man with dark hair and superior leather armour entered the room. Despite having spent the afternoon sparing, he carried a conceded arrogance that the cavernous hall could barely contain. He sheathed his steel longsword over his shoulder next to a small wooden shield and dramatically wiped the sweat from his brow.

"I'm sorry pup, I didn't see you there," the Teryn interjected to introduce his youngest child, "Howe, you remember my son Aedan."

The Arl replied without pause, "I see he's grown into a fine young man. Pleased to see you again lad."

Rendon Howe looked over to Aedan Cousland and smiled revealing gluttonous yellow teeth beneath a crooked nose.

"And you, Arl Howe," the second eldest Cousland replied, a trivial bow of his head tossed several bits of straw to the cobblestone floor.

"My daughter Delilah asked after you. Perhaps I should bring her next time."

Aedan paused for a moment to recall Delilah Howe, one of many noble women asking after him. He was unable to recollect her entirely on the spot but did remember that she looked nothing at all like her rat-faced father.

"I'd like that," he replied to the Arl with a mischievous smile he knew her father would appreciate.

"She goes on about your prowess as a warrior, I'd say you have an admirer young man."

Aedan was just about to respond when his father spoke.

"At any rate, pup, I summoned you for a reason. While your brother and I are both away I'm leaving you in charge of the castle."

The young Cousland's brow wrinkled, "What? Why can't I go into battle with you and Fergus?"

"What would your mother say if I took both of her sons off to war? She'd kill me if I let you go. She's already twisted into knots about Fergus and me going."

Although the reasoning of the Teryn was personal the stern tone of voice and expression told Aedan that further protest in front of the men would not bode well for him. He would simply have to convince his mother in private.

"Very well, I'll do what you think is best," he replied reluctantly resisting the urge to cross his arms in defiance like he did as a small child.

Bryce Cousland chuckled, "Now that's what I like to hear. Only a token force is remaining here and you must keep peace in the region. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?" The father let a smirk creep up his right cheek as he looked to Arl Howe and then back at his son. "There's also someone you must meet," he turned to an armed guard at his left side, "Please… show Duncan in."

The side door opposite to the one Aedan had entered from eased open and in trod a Rivaini man wearing the most inspiring steel armour Aedan Cousland had ever laid eyes on. Such fine armour seemed suited to the man who stood at such heights all others in the room were dwarfed. He bore a pristine steel longsword and dagger combination on his back and approached the noblemen as if he were someone of their stature. No one objected such an advance.

The mighty Duncan spoke humbly, "It is an honour to be a guest within your halls, Teryn Cousland."

Almost immediately Arl Howe turned to the Teryn with an astonished expression, "Your Lordship, you didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present." He blurted with a tone just short of hysteria.

The Teryn merely shrugged at his old friend, "Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced. Is there a problem?"

The Arl raised a hand and chortled, "Of course not, but a guest of this stature demands certain protocol. I am… at a disadvantage."

"We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that's true," the Teryn turned to his son, "Pup, Brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?"

Aedan paused for a moment to recall his childhood teacher and tutor, Brother Aldous.

He was a historian who specialized in Ferelden past and the past of the family Cousland. He was also a man who was fond of mocking his students. He would always say, "_I'm glad some of my lessons don't disappear into that yawning chasm between your ears, young man."_ He taught Aedan and his brother Fergus that the Grey Wardens were the victors in a great battle against the darkspawn long ago. Why Duncan, a man so keen on the survival and betterment of humanity, would make Arl Howe edgy was beyond Aedan's young mind; perhaps Duncan was from Orlais.

"They're an order of great warriors," chimed Aedan at last returning from the depths of his mind. "True they are the only reason men still live in Thedas,"

Bryce nodded to his son proudly. "Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow Wardens in the south. I believe he's got his eye on Ser Gilmore."

Duncan shifted his feet uneasily beneath him, his stature stirring the air around him. "If I might be so bold, I would suggest that your son is also an excellent candidate."

Aedan's face exploded with pride and excitement almost immediately. The Teryn gave a heavy sigh and stepped dramatically between his youngest child and the Grey Warden Commander.

"Honor though that might be, this is one of my sons we are talking about."

Aedan leaned forward and interjected in with enthusiasm, "I think I rather like that idea, Father."

Without so much as turning his head toward his son the Teryn continued to insist that Duncan not press the matter. "I've not so many children that I'll gladly see them all off to battle. Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription…?"

Duncan smiled pleasantly at the Teryn and his son, "Have no fear. While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I've no intention of forcing the issue."

Bryce Cousland glanced pensively back at his son before starting towards the comfort of the fire. "Pup, can you ensure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone?"

"Of course," Aedan's eager reply brought a proud grin to his father's timeworn face.

"In the meantime, find Fergus and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me. He's upstairs in his chambers, no doubt. Now be a good lad and do as I ask, we'll talk soon."

His father's condescending words made it difficult for Aedan to bow respectfully to all three of his elders, but did so out of obligation. He turned away feeling like the least important man in the room, or not even a man, he doubted that his father viewed him as anything more than a boy.

The corridors of the Castle were open to the sky; it was really more of a pillared courtyard than a corridor. Weak flecks of snow tumbled down around Aedan as he retreated from the great hall. He took a moment to collect himself; the snowflakes provided relief as they landed on his rose cheeks that were flushed with a flurry of embarrassment, disappointment, and anger.

After a moment he took a full inhale and the crisp air drove him forward. He turned right and headed up the cobbled floor to the vault. Three men bearing the arms and shield of his house sat around a table- only one of them rose to their feet as he entered.

"Oh! My Lord, we were just… ah…" the stunned guard fumbled clumsily to find words that justified the casual state.

"Playing cards?" Aedan inquired gesturing down at the wooden table in the center of the room. The rest of the men stood but remained in shamed silence, so the same man spoke again. "Well… the treasury's... safe… I'm not even sure why the Teryn stationed us here…"

Aedan glanced over toward the barred iron door to the private armory. As far back as he could remember, that door had always been good enough to protect the family's treasures and valuables.

"Did my father fear someone would steal something?" Aedan inquired looking back toward the guard.

He hesitated a bit before stuttering, "I…I don't know. Nobody has come to look at the treasury."

"Who has the key to the treasury?" Aedan pressed; he was determined to re-establish the authority his father had dampened moments before.

"The Teryn and perhaps the Teryna? I honestly don't know, my Lord."

Aedan sighed and dismissively waved his hand at the men, "I'll forget about it. This time." He turned smugly and sauntered out of the room as if to disregard the soldier's reply

"Yes, my Lord, thank you…"

Young Cousland continued to stroll through the manor and was now in search of a suitable servant girl he would seduce and use for amusement once his father had left. Highever would be chockfull of lonely women once the armies marched south, some noble and some not. Aedan had always taken a liking to elven women but he was entirely convinced that he would marry a mage. She could use her magic to cook and clean the estate in addition to providing an enchanted defence. Aedan was practically salivating at the thought of a busty magical temptress as he dappled in daydreams down the hallways.

His daze was dashed by the approach of an insistent red haired knight, Ser Gilmore.

"There you are!" piped the jittery ginger. "Your mother told me the Teryn has summoned you, so I didn't want to interrupt."

Aedan smiled at his old friend. The Bannorn squire, Ser Roland Gilmore, had grown up with him since childhood and was a brother to him as much as Fergus. "Hello to you, too, Ser Gilmore."

"I fear your hound has the kitchens in uproar once again. Nan is threatening to leave." Roland laughed and gestured over his right shoulder.

Aedan looped his thumbs around his belt, "Nan is just blowing off steam. She's always been like that."

"Your mother disagrees. She insists you collect the dog and quickly. You know those mabari hounds. They listen only to their master, anyone else risks having an arm bitten off."

Nan earned her name by surviving the position of Cousland nanny before becoming the castle cook. She always maintained the mabari warhound that had imprinted to Aedan so many years ago, but in her eyes the mischievous mutt was the bane of her very existence.

Aedan briefly imagined his dog biting off Nan's arm and urgently looked to Ser Gilmore, "Then I guess I should go collect him."

"You're quite lucky to have your own mabari warhound, you know smart enough not to talk, my father used to say, of course that means he's easily bored, Nan swears he confounds her just to amuse himself, at any rate, your mother would have me accompany you until the matter is settled. Shall we?"

Aedan dropped his hands dutifully to his sides and started off in an exaggerated manner. "To the kitchen, then!" He declared.

"Just follow the yelling. When Nan's unhappy she makes sure everyone knows it." Gilmore advised sticking close to Aedan's heels.

They forged through the winding corridors of the castle in a comfortable silence, though Aedens mind was racing. After a while Aedan turned to his friend and casually asked, "Do you know much about the Grey Wardens?"

Ser Gilmore shrugged slightly, "Only what everyone hears. I never expected to actually see one because so few of them are here in Ferelden."

"What happens if the Grey Wardens recruit you?" Aedan's curiosity drove to continue questioning, though he attempted to keep his tone light as to not prompt suspicion.

"I only know that once you become a Grey Warden, your old life is over. There's no going back." Ser Gilmore replied with ease, but paused for a moment to reflect on the idea before continuing in a slightly heavier manner "What if the Grey Warden tried to recruit you? Have you thought about it?"

Aedan stopped dead in his tracks. "I really wish he would recruit me" Cousland's face began to tint a subtle crimson hue, " but it's unlikely that the Wardens would risk my father's wrath…"

As Aedan's words trailed off he started to walk again. He didn't think his friend would inquire further but he did not want to stand around and see if that was where the conversation would arrive. Silence ensued.

The two men stood at the mouth of the corridor leading to the kitchen; shouting and barking could be clearly heard from their current position.

"Have you ever seen darkspawn?" Young Cousland asked his friend.

"Never, you hear about darkspawn attacking homesteads and travelers, but… I thought they were just stories." Ser Gilmore's ignorance towards the inquiries Aedan had about his possible future left the young noble's curiosity frustratingly unsatisfied.

As they began walking toward the kitchens Aedan generated more queries. "Are Grey Wardens really as skilled as the legends say?"

Ser Gilmore ran a gauntleted hand through his fiery hair and replied, "I hear they only recruit the most skilled. It'd be disappointing if that weren't true."

Aedan nodded in agreement, braced himself and pushed open the door to hell.

As the entrance to the room opened a mild increase in temperature was noticeable, the overwhelming stench of what could only be justifiably described as a hoard of fish assaulting your nostrils, on the other hand, was undeniable. Inside of the kitchen was a roaring fire which only enhanced the odour of fresh fish and salted meats. One of the wine casks had been busted open upon the stone floor and Nan, an old woman with a formidably foul temperament, stood before the larder door shaking her fists at two elven servants.

"Get that bloody mutt out of the larder!" she shrieked at the snivelling servants.

They cowered before her slender, yet scornful stature and the female servant managed to squeak, "But Mistress, it won't let us near."

Nan clenched her fists with such rage that it seemed as though her gnarled knuckles could tear through her worn skin at any second.

"If I can't get into that larder I'll skin both of you useless elves, I swear it!" It was hard to believe such a tyrannous tone came from such a weathered woman.

Ser Gilmore bounced forward to relieve some tension, "Uh…calm down, good woman. We've come to help" he announced in a heroic, almost melodic tone while simultaneously signalling grandly to Aedan.

"You and you!" She bellowed only just realizing the two young men had finally arrived to resolve the cantina chaos the canine had caused.

Instantaneously Nan's furry was redirected and her sharp glare shot towards Aedan; she was shaking with wrath. Her faced had flushed to a deep red- it was as if she had spent all day under a summer sun- when her eyes landed on young Cousland.

"Your bloody mongrel keeps getting into my larder! That beast should be put down!"

Aedan seem unfazed by the daggers flying from the aged crone and merely crossed his arms in protest, "He's not a mongrel! He's a pureblood mabari!"

Nan's face inflamed even more and her whole body vibrated, "A blight wolf is what he is! How am I supposed to cook for an entire castle with him in there causing trouble?"

The she-elf spoke up once more, though it was barely audible through Nan's echoing cries "Oh dear, mistress calm down, please-"

"That's it, I quit! Inform the Teryna. I'll go cook at some nice estate in the Bannorn!"

Aedan bit his lip to disguise a chuckle as he watched in disbelief while the woman kept getting crosser by the second; maybe he could get her to explode.

Ser Gilmore took a few steps toward the larder, "Nan, please! We'll get the dog. Calm down." The old cook took a long, deep breath and her ire seemed to deflate a touch. "Just get him gone. I've got enough to worry about with a castle full of hungry soldiers." She turned on the spot to face the two terrified elven servants and yelled, "You two! Stop standing there like idiots, get out of the way!"

Young Cousland sighed heavily at the old maid's degrading disposition towards the slight servants as he carefully lifted the latch to the larder unsure of what pandemonium lurked. The hefty oak door swung ajar to reveal a boisterous barrel-chested dog snooping about the sealed pantry, its tiny tail twitched happily up high in the air. Half devoured sausage links were strewn about. Seasoning that now covered the floor boasted a patchwork of paw prints. A bare ham bone lay defiled and defeated near the door. It was clear the bitch had no reservations towards the preservations.

Dogs were an essential part of Ferelden culture, and no breed was more esteemed than the mabari. The lineage was as old as myth, said to have been bred from the wolves who served the legendary hero Dane.

"Felly!" Aedan shouted the name of his prized mabari with enthusiasm and she looked up at him with ecstatic brown eyes and delicate strand of drool sparkling on her muzzle. She turned her charcoal colored maw upward and began barking persistently at a collection of aged white sacks on the far side of the larder.

Ser Gilmore shook his head in disbelief, "Look at that mess. How did she even get in here?"

Felly turned and huffed at her master excitedly with her soggy pink tongue dangling from the side of her massive mouth and a satisfied sparkle in her eye. Aedan folded his arms crossly and stared down at Felly; her furry chest rose and fell dramatically as she panted.

"Are you trying to tell me something, girl?" Aedan beckoned his loyal hound to his side and she complied enthusiastically.

"She does seem like she's trying to tell you something", agreed Ser Gilmore.

Suddenly he spun hastily, or as hastily as his heavy armour would allow, and placed his gauntleted hand upon the pommel of his sword. "Wait, did you hear that?"

In mere moments both the men and the beast were surrounded by hen sized rats on all sides. Rats skulked out from behind piles of sacks. Rats skulked out from beneath wooden crates. Rats skulked out from atop of shelves. Aedan reached over his shoulder and unsheathed his longsword; the hissing feral beasts would taste the bitterness of his blade and those who dodged would be stomped underfoot.

The cavalry trio rushed into battle.

Disarray ensued. Swords flew, slobber flew and squeals flew.

Rats gnashed, soldiers swung, and the dog demolished.

There had been easily over two dozen super-sized rats, but now only minutes later, all that remained was simply smears, generous sized piles of pulp, and dirty fur. Felly dropped the last rat's twisted twitching corpse at her master's feet and seemed to grin with a mixture of pride and devotion; it was clearly intended to be a trophy for their victorious battle.

Ser Gilmore stepped forward from the carnage to Aedan's left side and was still holding his bloodied blade in his hand.

"Giant rats?! It's like the start of every bad adventure tale my grandfather used to tell. Your hound must have chased them in through their holes. It looks like she wasn't raiding the larder after all." Ser Gilmore gestured toward Felly.

She gave an excited bark and gazed happily up to Aedan. Her master scanned the cramped dark room for any further sign of vermin, "It certainly looks that way. Those were very large rats."

"I've seen larger, they come up from the Kocari Wilds sometimes." Roland replied matter-of-factly while sheathing his bloody longsword, "But seeing as you've got your mabari well in hand I'll be on my way. I'm to prepare for the arrival of more of the Arl's men." He bowed slightly and exited the larder.

Aedan looked to his hound and patted her oversized head affectionately. She panted contently and followed her master from the pantry, the pair oblivious to the rat entrails and bones that squished beneath their feet.

Young Cousland re-entered the kitchen. The heroic duo was approached by Nan immediately.

"There she is, as brazen as you please, licking her chops after helping herself to the roast, no doubt!"

Aedan gestured over his shoulder at the massacre and replied, "Actually, she was defending your larder from rats- big ones!"

The female elf servant jumped, "What rats? Not the large grey ones!" her voice shook as she looked with fright over to her fellow servant who also appeared horrified. "They'll rip you to shreds, they will!"

Nan rolled her eyes and sighed with exasperation, "See now you've gone and scared the servants! I expect those filthy things are dead."

"My faithful warhound made sure it was safe." Aedan half-heartedly reassured knowing his words would do just as much to sway the hag's opinion of the dog as a feather would to fend off a swarm of rats.

"I bet that dog lead those rats in there to begin with." Felly yawned in time to Nan's predictable response, the woman took the gesture as a personal insult.

Felly barked sharply in her own defense.

Nan continued, "Don't even start with the sad eyes I'm immune to your so-called charms."

The hound flattened her ears and whined.

With a heavy exhale the cook reached for some dried meat sitting on the nearest table, "Here then, take these pork bits," she threw them before Felly's bloody front paws. "Don't say Nan never gives you anything, bloody dog."

Felly licked her chops and woofed happily at Nan, who couldn't resist smiling a little herself. "Thank you, my Lord, now we can get to work," she glanced toward the two shivering elves, "That's right you two, quit standing about!"

Aedan was anxious to get out Nan's way. He hurried through the kitchen doors and down the adjacent corridor with Felly fondly at his heels.

Aedan strolled without cause through the estate. There was no rush to be anywhere, it's not as though the noble had to rush off to any battles of real importance.

Passage through passage passed uneventfully until he came upon a guest room occupied by the Grey Warden, Duncan. The room was humbly furnished with oak furniture and a cozy bed that had turned down by the elf servants that morning. The future Teryn stood in the doorway of the room determined not to speak a word until his presence was noticed.

A moment passed.

And then another.

And finally one more before the young man gave in and let out a small cough.

"Greetings, once again, Aedan Cousland. To what honor do I owe this visit?" Duncan inquired stepping into the center of the room.

Aedan glanced down at Felly, who was happily licking rat blood from the toe of his leather boot, and then back up at Duncan, "I was hoping to ask you a quick question or two."

"Very well," Duncan replied simply as he raised his bushy onyx-coloured eyebrows in a friendly manner.

Aedan walked tactfully into the guest room, but only a few steps; he knew he was in an important presence and intended on treading carefully as to not come off as an over-eager child, "How much danger are Fergus and my father in?" the young man began questioning.

"I understand the first battles have gone easily. No archdemon has be sighted yet, my Lord, but with my entire soul I believe this is a Blight."

Young Cousland's eyes widened, "Are there really darkspawn in the south?" Despite his attempt his tone was eager.

Duncan nodded with a somber look, "Indeed. We spotted a horde assembling in the Kocari Wilds not three weeks ago. Luckily King Cailan took us at our word and marched with Ferelden forces quickly. The first battles have already been fought. Your father and I must move quickly."

Aedan still couldn't believe it- darkspawn were not the stuff of Nan's tales- they were real.

"How many darkspawn are there?" He stepped into the Grey Warden's room two steps further.

"Thousands, perhaps ten thousand or more in this horde. Normally the darkspawn stay in the Deep Roads. It bodes ill that so many risk the surface." Felly yawned lazily and lay down at Aedan's feet propping her heavy head upon her paws, clearly the weight of the matter was beyond her.

"Did you really come all this way to see Ser Gilmore?" Cousland inquired trying not to let his envy of the knight show through.

Duncan's dark beard shifted as he smiled. The connotation of the smile was lost on Aedan as the man was ignorant to Duncan's adoration and feelings of duty toward his Grey Warden recruits.

"I have only found a couple of worthy candidates in my travels across Ferelden. Your father invited me here, suggesting this Ser Gilmore. If he is not suitable, I will head south and join up with the King."

Aedan unconsciously leaned forward as he pressed the matter that had been wholly on his mind since he met the Grey Warden Commander. "Would you really recruit me into the Grey Wardens?"

Duncan's grin only grew. "Of course. You're young, skilled and eager for battle, or so I heard." Duncan treaded across the quaint room, the steel greaves of his leather boots clanked authoritatively upon the carpeted floor. He stopped before Aedan and placed an armored hand on Cousland's shoulder. "The Grey Wardens do not recruit simply anybody; I intend no flattery when I say you show promise. The old treaties allow me to conscript you even against your father's wishes. But I will not do so. Our order is too small to risk animosity with Ferelden's nobility."

Aedan nodded in understand and nudged Felly up with a light tap of his leather boot, a boot not yet clad with steal greaves. The hound rose and began panting heavily. "Thank you for your time, Duncan. We will certainly speak more later." As Cousland went to leave he bowed his head slightly and turned on the heel opposite to Felly, the older man's words trailed after, "It's tempting, my Lord. But I am content to see what other candidates your castle offers."

Aedan tried not to give Duncan's last statement any thought as he stormed through the castle without pause to acknowledge any guards or servants that passed his way. Ser Gilmore was sure to become a Grey Warden, maybe even a legend in the time of the Blight in Ferelden. Aedan Cousland was Highever's wet nurse. The idea of sitting out the southern battles inspired a slow bubbling rage deep within his chest. He had one more person to discuss his Grey Warden inquiries with: his mother.

Aedan stormed up the manor's levels toward the living quarters. The young Lord held his breath as he rounded a corner and spotted his mother, Teryna Eleanor, in the midst of a discussion with three others. As Aedan approached his mother, her voice grew louder and his rage grew softer.

"My dear Bryce brought this back from Orlais last year. The marquis who gave it to him was drunk I understand, and mistook Bryce for the King..." the Teryna noticed her approaching son and greeted him with a warm smile.

"Here's my youngest son!" Her bright eyes shot down at Felly and though her gaze dropped her tone remained optimistic, "I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound of yours that the situation in the kitchen is handled."

Aedan scratched Felly's bulky neck, "Yes, there were giant rats in the larder."

The Teryna's cheeks blushed slightly however it was a softer hue than that which had filled Aedan's face earlier that day.

"Ah marvelous, just the thing for my guests to hear right before dinner." She indicated with hospitable grace towards a lady robed in finery at her left side. "Darling, you remember Lady Landra, Bann Loren's wife?"

The woman was practically ancient by Aedan's standards but she giggled like a giddy little girl. "I think we last met at your mother's spring salon." Her cheeks too flushed with pink.

Aedan remembered Lady Landra and her copper headed noble son, Dairren. Landra was drunk for virtually the entire salon; it was an unfortunate first impression as she had been there as an attempt to marry her son off to any noble woman or lady in the hall. Aedan recalled that both her motive and her manners trying and bothersome that evening. Dairren, on the other hand, was fair competition although the two of them had never been close; Bann Loren's son bore no love for the sword. This baffled Aedan and from then on he saw the ginger gentleman as a queer fellow.

"Of course, it is good to see you again, my lady" Aedan said cheerily in attempt to mask his apathy towards the guest.

"Your too kind dear boy! Didn't I spend half the salon shamelessly flirting with you?" Lady Landra raised an eyebrow apprehensively, unsure if her past actions would be lightly dismissed or shamefully condemned.

Aedan was speechless as he watched her aged forehead wrinkle.

She continued desperately in attempt to make light of her deeds, "Well it was a lovely salon from what little I remember."

"Which wouldn't be much considering we had to pull you into the carriage afterwards." sighed Dairren bitterly.

"You remember my son, Dairren? I believe you two sparred in the last tourney."

Aedan briefly recollected his easy victory over Dairren, a smug smile crept unknowingly across his lips.

"You beat me handily, as I recall" the Bann's son laughed. He clearly bore no ill will, "It's good to see you again, my Lord."

"You're being modest, you fought very well." Aedan complimented Dairren and the smug smile turned sincere as the young men shook hands firmly.

"This is my lady in waiting, Iona." The Bann's wife introduced a stunning, slender blonde elf with eyes that sparkled like a deep tropical sea, skin as fine as silk and delicate lips which rivaled the petals of a bleeding heart.

Aedan stared, his mouth fell open slightly. He was entranced, as if he were gazing upon the riches of many lands; she met his gaze with a stare the mirror his perfectly.

A moment passed.

And then another.

"Do say something, dear" Lady Landra urged fervently, though it seemed her words fell on deaf ears as the gaze continued for several more seconds.

"It is a great honor, my Lord," Iona's voice was low pitch and delicate and rung sweetly off the stone walls. The jeweled gown she wore cascaded elegantly off her slight shoulders, exaggerated the curve of her modest, yet still shapely bosom, hugged the gentle curve of her hips before falling to the floor; if there was one thing Aedan Cousland loved more than honor and glory it was elven women. The man was instantly enamoured and it was no longer battle intoxicating his mind.

"I have heard many wonderful things about you." Her delectable voice made him weak in his knees.

Landra turn toward her old friend, "Don't look now Eleanor, but I believe the girl has a crush on your lad." Her keen statement shattered the enchanting moment the young strangers were lost in.

Immediately Iona's gaze fell to the floor, or possibly Felly and she blushed coyly at the presence of young Cousland.

Aedan reveled in every minute of her infatuated esteem."Perhaps we should speak alone sometime, Iona?"

"As it pleases you, my Lord" Cooed Iona through blissfully curled lips.

Before the couple could get lost again in lustful looks, Lady Landra released an exhausted sighed, "I think perhaps I shall rest now, my dear". She regarded her son, "Dairren, I will see you and Iona at supper."

Dairren nodded in agreement, "Perhaps we will retire to the study for now."

As the three guests parted ways with their Cousland host Eleanor approached her youngest son. "You should say goodbye to Fergus while you have the chance."

Aedan crossed his arms in trivial defiance of his mother. "Why can't I go with father and Fergus?"

The Teryna swept a strand of grey hair from her cheek, it was an exasperated gesture. "I know it's difficult to stay in the castle and watch others ride off, but we must see to our duties first. You understand that, don't you?"

"What if they fall without me?" Young Cousland's eyes begged his mother to concede.

"It's in the maker's hands now; we must cope as best we can."

Disappointed, Aedan lowered his hands down to his sides, "I have a bad feeling about all this."

"As do I, your father and brother are marching off to fight... Maker knows what. All the assurances in the world won't calm me. But it wouldn't help to take up arms and follow. Fergus and your father have their duty and we have ours." The zestful tone in the Teryna's voice faded as she spoke and her hollow words mimicked the turmoil she felt towards the matter.

Aedan suddenly found himself wishing more than anything that the Maker had blessed the Couslands with a woman-child so that the task of satisfying Eleanor's maternal impulses would not infinitely fall upon him.

"Are you staying at the castle?" He murmured begrudgingly, no longer caring to conceal his displeasure with the current circumstances.

"For a few days, then I'll travel with Lady Landra to her estate and keep her company for a time. Your father thinks my presence here might undermine your authority." The mother was sure she spoke to endear her son, though he saw it as patronizing.

Aedan suddenly felt as though he was losing his family all at once. It was beginning to seem that being left to care for the castle was a thinly veiled excuse for ensuring he was the one that was cared for. "As you wish," he managed through a clenched jaw.

"Good, I was worried you might be nervous about running the castle alone. I needn't have been concerned." Eleanor cupped her son's face in her hands and squeezed his cheeks gently another affectionate gesture that made the man feel more like a boy.

"Did you know there's a Grey Warden here?" Aedan interjected in attempt to re-establish his authority, though speaking with lips pursed from his mother's loving pressure undermined this intention.

She slowly lowered her hands and eyed her son sternly. "Yes, your father mentioned that. You haven't gotten it into your heard that you want to be recruited?"

"The darkspawn have returned and Grey Wardens are needed," he grasped his mother's hands in his, pleading with her.

"There's enough here at the castle here to occupy you. I don't need you off chasing danger like your brother."

He gritted his teeth, and released her hands. "I should go."

The Teryna seized her son's shoulder with a familiar comfort, "I love you, my darling boy. You know that, don't you?" Aedan paused for a moment, but had never been able to hold any ill feelings towards his mother. He smirked and kissed her rosy cheek. "I love you, too."

As his mother closed the conversation she spoke through a look of maternal wisdom, "Go do what you must, then. I will see you soon."

Young Cousland turned about and, with heartfelt haste, headed toward the library; following close behind was his indelible mabari.

Iona and Dairren were tucked away in a subtle side chamber of the library and were buried amidst the private collection of Teryn Cousland's late father, Fergus Cousland. Aedan eagerly approached the meek elf maiden. Before his presence was made known, Felly bounded towards Iona and in a playful manner fell onto front haunches, successfully creating a solid nine stone beast barrier.

"That is a magnificent dog! She seems most noble and intelligent." Iona cooed joyfully.

Aedan nodded and began to tug playfully on the meaty skin surrounding Felly's neck and scruff.

A giddy giggle slipped from Iona's delicate lips, "Greetings once again, my Lord."

Aedan grinned at the lady-in-waiting as his mind raced is elaborate plots of how he would go about wooing the young woman. As if his companion was reading his thoughts, Felly anxiously nudged the girl with her massive canine snout, and suddenly another thought filled Aedan's mind: skip ahead to the good stuff! Landra will depart in a matter of days.

"You are very pretty, if I might say so," he indulged the blond beauty through a thickly charming smile.

"My Lord is very kind, thank you," she replied, this time managing to do without the conspicuous crimson blush she exhibited the last time they spoke.

To Aedan this was a clear sign that Iona felt at ease in his presence and accordingly he leaned toward her placing his hand on the wall behind her conveniently creating a very... very intimate space.

"I think we should get to know each other better", Aedan raised an eyebrow emphasizing his suggestive intention.

Iona seemed intrigued by the magnetically charismatic Lord. "Aren't we doing just that? What else did you have in mind?" Iona teased and coyly rested her head on Aedan's arm. Her golden locks framed her virtuous face which only further likened the maiden to her fabled fairy ancestry.

Aedan caught the intoxicating aroma of her perfume and couldn't resist a more direct approach. "Something more intimate, later on in my room." He urged, though there was no doubt in his mind that she would accept his invitation.

Iona inched closer to the human before her; if the space was merely intimate before it was down-right passionate now. Though he smelt of dogs and hay she found the scent oddly appealing and her breath began to quicken. "I think I might like that. If I come to your door once everyone is asleep… would that be agreeable, my Lord?"

Young Cousland smoothly slid his hand from the wall and placed it on the nape of Iona's scrumptious neck. "Please, call me Aedan."

Iona winked one of her angelic blue eyes provocatively, "Until tonight, then."

Without another word, or a single glance back Aedan was off; after all, always leave them wanting more.

Felly was barely able to keep pace with her master as he flew up flights of stairs and around corners toward the living quarters. He couldn't wait to tell his older brother Fergus about Iona. Aedan's brother had always encouraged the young buck's feminine pursuits...as long as his wife Oriana was not around, that is. He found Fergus saying goodbye to his lovely Antivan wife and his son, Oren.

"Is there really going to be a war, papa?" Oren asked looking up at Fergus through an exceptionally innocent gaze only a child's eyes can carry. "Will you bring me back a sword?" The infant added ironically juxtaposing his previous plea.

Fergus knelt down in front of Oren, "I'll bring you the mightiest one I can find, I promise. I'll be back before you know it."

Oriana laced her elegant fingers together nervously, "I wish victory was indeed so certain. My heart is… disquiet."

"Don't frighten the boy, love. I speak the truth." Fergus' voice smoothed his wife's apprehension as Aedan entered the room, "Here's my younger brother to see me off. Now dry your eyes, love, and wish me well."

The two Couslands standing together, one outfitted in chainmail and the other in leather, were quite a sight as they were almost identical in every feature.

"No darkspawn could harm Fergus!" Aedan quipped enthusiastically clapping his brother on the back.

"He is as mortal as anyone despite his refusal to believe-" Oriana started with an obvious tone of panic in her voice.

"Now love, no need to be grim" Fergus turned to his wife and offered her a reassuring smile.

"I wish I could go with you" Aedan had no delusions that the envy he felt towards his brother was any kind of a secret.

"I wish you could come. Mother and father have been fighting about it for days. It`s too bad, I could have used you at my side."

Fergus firmly planted an armoured hand on Aedan`s shoulder and squeez ed, and Aedan offered a gracious reply, "You will be missed, brother."

Fergus redirected his hand from his brother's shoulder and wrapped it gingerly around Oriana's worrying fingers. "If it's any consolation, I'm sure I'll freeze to death in the southern rain and be completely jealous of you up here warm and safe."

Oriana chuckled slightly, "I am positively thrilled that you will be so miserable, husband."

"I actually came to bring you a message: father wants you to leave without him."

Fergus looked back towards the other man and for a moment felt a strong pang of nostalgia; it was as if he were looking into a mirror that reflected a younger version of himself, "Then the Arl's men are delayed, you'd think his men were all walking backwards." Fergus turned dutifully back to his wife and son, "Well, I better get underway; so many darkspawn to behead, so little time." He lovingly watched Oriana for a moment, trying to absorb his wife's essence as much he could before departure, "Off we go then, see you soon, my love." She nodded somberly and caressed the back of his neck though the gesture was a poorly disguised effort to hold on to her husband, even just a few moments more. A foul feeling sat heavy at the bottom of her stomach. She had never before said good-bye to her husband for such a grim reason and expected to feel ill at ease, but despite the obvious implications of the impending confrontation something simple did not feel right.

The Teryn and Teryna joined the clan with a hushed entrance and greeted their family with warm expressions.

"I would hope, dear boy that you'd plan to wait for us before taking your leave," the Teryn addressed his eldest son though wife interjected with a weary energy about her. "Be well, my son. I will pray for your safety every day you are gone."

The apprehension in the air was almost unbearable.

Aedan light-heartedly laid a hand on Oren's shoulder and his nephew peered up at him, "A good shield would be more useful."

Oriana folded her hands in prayer around her husband's, "The Maker sustain and preserve us all. Watch over our sons, husbands, and fathers and bring them safely back to us."

"Bring us some ale and wenches while you're at it! For the men, of course," chimed the eldest Cousland brother understanding the need to lighten the mood.

His wife's jaw dropped slightly, "Fergus! You would say this in front of your mother?"

"What's a wench?" inquired innocently ignorant little Oren.

Everyone looked to the little boy with collective awe as he continued his investigation. "Is that what you pull on to get the bucket out of the well?"

The Teryn answered the young boy's inquiry with a beaming sense of pride towards the lad, "A wench is a woman who pours the ale in a tavern, Oren."

He paused for a moment and then chortled, "Or a woman who drinks a lot of ale."

"Bryce!" The Teryna exclaimed with a scornful tut "Maker's breath, I swear it's like living with a pack of small boys."

Fergus chuckled fondly, "I'll miss you, mother dear," and turning to Aedan added, "You'll take care of her, brother, won't you?"

"You can count on me," Aedan responded without missing a beat in the conversation.

"Pup, you'll want to get an early night, you've much to do tomorrow," stated the Teryn authoritatively.

"Yes father," Aedan gripped his brother's arm and tugged him aside.

"Getting sent to bed early, are we?" Fergus teased just as he always had. Smart remarks came to the man as easily as the air.

"I don't mind," started Aedan setting a pretense for the tale he was eager to boast, "I have someone waiting for me."

Fergus exclaimed at once, jabbing an elbow approvingly in Aedan's arm "What? You sly dog!"

Oriana gripped her husband's hands in firm warning and hissed, "Fergus, really!"

He winked at his wife casually and again addressed the buck, "It's the elven lass that arrived with Lady Landra, don't tell me, it isn't. At any rate I'll miss you, take care of everyone and be here when I get back."

In that moment, no one truly knew just how hastily night would fall upon the castle that evening.


	3. Chapter 2

This chapter was written in collaboration with my good friend Heather. It concludes Aedan Cousland's origin and journey into becoming a Grey Warden. Arl Howe betrays the Couslands using the chaos of the Fifth Blight as his root to power. Amaranthine forces took advantage of the Couslands' weakened defence and attacked during the night. Aedan's survival during the coup was insured by Duncan at the price of the young man's recruitment. Though Fergus was left as the rightful heir to the Teyrnir of Highever, the successful attack allowed Howe to declare himself the new Teyrn.

**Disclaimer**

I do not own any of the character of Dragon Age, nor the world of Thedas itself. They are all the property of Bioware and EA Games.

Highever II: Origin Human Noble

A heavy blanket of night fell over Castle Cousland. The torches were lit, though they did little to combat the inescapable darkness. All was quiet.

Aedan awoke in his luxurious featherbed.

He noticed that the night was shadier than usual. Such a cloudless sky often boasted a prize of lustrous shining shards which did quite nicely to fill the grounds with a gentle light. But on this eve only a weary moon sat dully against the midnight horizon, weakly straining a dank glow through Aedan's small brick sill.

The looming mediocrity of the sky perfectly mimicked Aedan's spirits. He had briefly basked in the after-glow of amorous activity, however the light of lust had long since left and in its place a placid bitterness of castle-sitting condemnation had began its reign.

Iona was already awake. Or perhaps she hadn't slept.

She looked over to young Cousland and a delicate strand of hair fell across her eyes. Blond hair that usually shone like the finest gold appeared a pale blue in the eerie moonlight. Suddenly she was painfully aware of her own nudity and though she was not ashamed she felt compelled to pull the blanked up over her hue-less skin which, due to moonlit illusion, seemed almost sickly.

Felly was growling and snapping with feverish ferocity at the bedroom's locked door.

"Your hound is making so much noise! She seems so angry."

Aedan sat up and peered hard around the room; he saw nothing through the veil of night but slowly billowing in from the hallway the faint sounds of chaos crept to his ear. He got up promptly; the man was not entirely concerned however he welcomed an excuse to get out of bed and out of his head. He felt around urgently to find his iron bound chest containing his armour and weapons.

"Perhaps something is wrong," Aedan said as he pulled his longsword from the chest. He handled the weapon with a certain effortless grace, as if the steel was merely an extension of his arm.

"I thought I heard yelling when I woke up, but now I hear nothing," whispered Iona to Aedan as she watched him dress in the basic linens he always wore beneath his armour. The grace he carried with his sword with seemed to fade when faced with fabric. She never thought to help the man as her mind was already out into the now suspiciously silent corridor.

Felly continued to bay at the closed door fueling the elf maiden into abrupt action.

"I'm going to see if someone's in the hall."

Aedan cried out for her to stay as he pulled up his drawers with one hand and grasped his iron longsword in the other. His plea was as ineffective as his attempt to dress. Iona lifted the latch and opened the door with deaf determination. Her bravery in the moment was a bold as her bare body.

Felly bounded out before Iona could make a move. A single arrow sailed smoothly from beyond the darkness. It silently glided over Felly, the hound paid no notice. Before she could react the bolt sunk into Iona's chest. The silence was broken by the sound of bodkin piercing bone, and a gentle gasp from the girl's throat as her body crumpled to the floor. Soon a stream of blood spurted from the wound but it was clear her death had been immediate.

Only moments after Iona's body had hit the ground three men bearing swords and a fourth carrying a bow forced their way into Aedan's room. The ill-dressed sire easily parried an attacked from the first man. Felly ferociously bombarded the archer with a flurry of tooth and claw just as he drew back his bowstring. Aedan carried a calm demeanor, a disposition invaluable to warriors, and swore it was his quick footwork that had saved him from being mercilessly hacked to pieces. He made a fleeting grab for the chest in an attempt to arm himself with his small wooden shield, but failed. It required precise striking, iron determination and maybe a hint of luck but Aedan and Felly were able to annihilate the intruders.

Aedan had finished dressing himself and strapping his buckler to his shield arm but his heart was still racing when the Teyrna burst into his room. She was clad in superior leather armour and clenched an elm longbow which trembled at the severity of her grip.

"Darling! I heard fighting outside and feared the worst! Are you hurt?"

Aedan's already apprehensive heart began to beat so quickly the blood in his veins no longer pulsed but instead shot lividly through his body. He could feel himself beginning to thirst for the blood of the men who had murdered his woman.

"Those men killed Iona!" he exclaimed feverishly feeling his face redden.

"What? The elven girl! But why?" The Teyrna looked down at Iona's corpse with a solemn sternness.

"A scream work me up. There were men in the hall so I barred the door," she gestured down at one of the dead soldiers, "Did you see their shields? Those are Howe's men! Why would they attack us?"

Aedan glared down at the dead man and the shield which bore the sigil of the bear.

"He's betrayed father! He attacks while our troops are gone!" the man bellowed as rage rapidly consumed every corner of his mind and every inch of his body. "You don't think his men were delayed …on purpose?"

Eleanor cursed under her breath, "That bastard, I'll cut his lying throat myself." The ire in her eyes quickly fell into a frozen panic, "Have you seen your father? He never came to bed."

Aedan nodded gravely toward Iona, "No, I haven't. I was in my room."

"We must find him!" urged the Teyrna with a voice filled with heavy panic. It was her words that now pleaded to deaf ears.

For many moments Aedan's gaze remained fixated on the empty face of Iona. Then, without cause he found himself staring pensively off into the hall.

"We should check on Oriana and Oren, as well."

His mother chortled in protest , "Andraste's mercy! What if the soldiers went into your brother's room first? Let's check on them quickly then we'll look for Bryce downstairs."

His mother's sentence was still falling from her lips as Aedan flew across the hall to his brother's room. His soft leather boot met solid oak with a detrimental thunk. It flew open as if it had been moved by the hand of The Maker himself.

Instantly Aedan and his mother were accosted by a gust of dank wind carrying the unmistakable smell of copper. The bodies of Oriana and Oren lay broken on the floor in pools of blood. Their delicate hands stained with crimson treachery were stretched out toward one another, a desperate gesture in the face of death. There were no words to describe the blasphemy that lay before the pair. Aedan could not even attempt to begin looking for such words as there was no air in his lungs and no thoughts in his head. There was only anguish.

The Teyrna emerged from behind her youngest son and her shrill sobs only added to the devastation, "No! My little Oren! What manner of fiend slaughters innocence?!"

Aedan carefully stepped into the dark room hesitant to get much closer; he did not want to clearly see the life ending wounds, he did not want to closely see the unnatural angles at which the innocent bodies crumpled, and he did not want to experience the soulless glares from empty opened eyes. He did not want to, but he knew he must. He pushed himself forward until he was standing over the corpses of his family's most promising future; he shook with indignation and furry erupted from behind his clenched jaw, "I'll make them pay!"

Eleanor Cousland brought her quivering hands over her eyes and managed to choked up a whisper, "Howe is not even taking hostages; he means to kill all of us! Oh, poor Fergus… let's go I don't want to see this!"

Her son turned and wrapped a protective arm around his mother and gently guided her from the dreadful scene. They silently made their way to the master bedroom. As they exited the hallway the mournful disposition turned into a dutiful one. The Teyrna pointed toward the far side of the room. "Perhaps we can salvage some things here, darling. Some of your father's belongings are in that trunk".

Aedan hasted to the cache and found disappointment; the chest contained a fair stock of weapons, but no armour. Wordlessly the pair abandoned the room as there was nothing left for them there.

The remaining Couslands strode to the end of the hall and haphazardly threw open the door to the outer bed chambers. Their presence was met by the unpleasant clank of four hostile Howe soldiers readying their weapons. Aedan clutched his wooden buckler, his only protection, tight against his chest and he charged headlong into the nearest enemy with Felly baring her teeth at his side. The two warriors fought side by side just as they had practiced on straw dummies and giant rats many times before. It was crucial that Aedan parried the first few blows dealt by his well-armoured enemy so that he could land a low blow to the back of his foe's knee. All it took was a light slash and the soldier fell prone onto his back and was overwhelmed by the ferocious mabari warhound. Aedan cleaved into the second enemies' neck, and as his second victim fell to the ground writhing, the remaining two were fatally struck by the wrath of the Teyrna's deadly arrows.

Adjacent to the massacre the door to the guest chamber containing Lady Landra and Dairren was ajar so Aedan gave it a slight weary nudge with his shoulder; he had learned to keep low expectations. The shadowy room contained much the same as Fergus' room; there was dust flying about and a strong metallic scent hanging in the air. Two brutalized corpses lay motionless on the floor and Eleanor cried out when she saw them, "Dear Landra! I'm so sorry… if she hadn't come to me! If she hadn't been here!"

Aedan quickly shut the door and again held his mother as she sobbed; but they both knew that time, as the Howe's soldiers, was not on their side. It was pertinent that they go downstairs and find out exactly what the meaning of all the pandemonium was.

The stench of smoke and the howls of battle hailed Aedan and his mother outside of the bed chambers; they gingerly snuck down the hall until the clash of metal on metal had grown to an overwhelming intensity. Eleanor halted suddenly and turned to her son, "Can you hear the fighting? Howe's men must be everywhere."

Aedan directed his gaze down the corridor towards the main hall and could not deny the sounds of slaughter that awaited them. How many more seasoned men could he bring down in his small clothes? Aedan wore no armour and bore only his practice sword on his back; nevertheless, he would have to settle for wearing his pride and bearing strong spirits. He glanced back toward his mother, "How can we get out of the castle?"

"The servants' passage leads out from the larder, but we must find your father first. The front gates, that's where your father must be."

Young Cousland shifted uneasily as he shuttered to think of leaving his home is such a tyrannical state, "Is there nothing else we can do?"

Teyrna Eleanor nodded and pulled several arrows from her quiver as she replied, "I have my treasury key we could go there first and take the Cousland sword from the vault. If anything is worth fighting to keep out of Howe's hands, it's that sword. But it may be a dangerous path." Aedan nodded in approval as he imagined himself running Rendon Howe through with his family's prized heirloom sword. That image was all the assurance he needed. "Then let's go to the treasury."

Mother turned on her heel and forged the way to the castle treasury. "If Howe's men are inside, they must already control the castle. We must use the servant's entry in the larder to escape. Do you hear me?"

Aedan unsheathed his iron longsword and followed closely behind, "You don't need to tell me twice!" They swiftly traveled undisturbed through piles of rubble and stacks of shattered barrels that were once filled with fish and ale, these comforts now seemed like distant memories. Small blazes scattered about secreted a pungent concoction of wasted food and burning oil, the odour was noxious and the foul air drove Aedan to hate Howe and his men even more.

The cobbles plateaued and the Couslands came to face fleeing servants with Howe soldiers hot on their trail. Enemies were no longer men; they were simply their weapons. The small crowd of swords and bows were easily dispatched en route to the castle vault. Eleanor mechanically shot arrows from her longbow with frightening speed and deadly accuracy. Aedan shield bashed one last Howe enemy before they approached the door to the vault. The guards lay dead in pools of their own blood though this scarlet sight was no longer shocking but rather simply expected. It was, however a great relief to see that the steel framed door to the vault's core remained unscathed. Aedan noiselessly thanked The Maker as he unlocked and opened their final barrier and stepped inside the hall of his family's dearest treasures. Inside the vault there was a weapon rack and an armour stand. None of the weapons on the rack were heirlooms but the armour stand did adorn somewhat average but intrinsically valuable tiered scale armour crafted from iron. The Teyrna was quick to rush and lock the door and Aedan was quick to dress himself. Once the room was secure the matron turned her attention to aiding her son and with an added pair of hands the task was complete in a matter of minutes. Eleanor smiled proudly at her gallantly dressed son but said nothing. He stepped dutifully up to the family chest and upon opening it beheld the formidable combination of the Cousland family sword and shield of Highever. Both were forged and crafted from grey iron and he eagerly bore his family's arms with great pride.

The newly armed duo with Felly in toe raced at top speed toward the main hall. They met no resistance on their pathway and slammed the wooden door quickly behind them as they valiantly entered the vast gallery. There was a least a dozen Howe soldiers in a violent melee with the Cousland guards. The home guard protectors were led by the young and zealous Ser Gilmore. Aedan rushed headlong into the thrashing crowd with both his sword and grey iron Cousland shield raised. He violently shield bashed two armed men about to flank his young red-haired friend. They all fell prone and were dispatched in a fountain of their blood by the blades of many Cousland guards bearing down on them. Aedan parried several attacks and eluded several too. In the madness unfolding around him he did not foresee the enemy blade that made sobering contact against his shoulder. The assault was jarring but his iron scale armour thwarted any critical damage. With bravery and precise striking he and Ser Gilmore fought back to back and cut down all Howe enemies that came before them. The young twosome's experience with battle tactics far exceeded that of the Howe invaders and short work was made of the marauders. Or so they thought. But one Howe infiltrator, a particularly notable adversary, was not expected. An elven mage, who was as daunting as she was powerful, especially in lieu of her menacing mage's staff, was beyond the men's foresight. The staff began to glow in her delicate grasp as she prepared to cast a spell; Aedan wished to behold a mage's talent for spell-weaving, something he had never before seen, but this was not the context in which he wished to view the spectacle. The first hint of a blue frosty glow caught Aedan's eye and he made a mad dash in her direction. Arrows flew from the bowstring of the Teyrna and made a home in the throats of the mage's bodyguards. Choking, they fell to the ground as a cone of frozen air cascaded from the staff and blew in a winding way around Aedan. He dropped to his knee behind his grey iron shield and prepared himself for the icy blast. It came with reckoning force but his shield held and once again Aedan remained relatively uninjured by the time the ice assault had been spent. Before he could rise and retaliate against the mage Aedan felt four points of pressure on his back; it was Felly. She leaped over her master, using his squared and lowered body she leapt and propelled her muscular nine stone body at the mage with a frightening dread howl. She screamed as the beast came down on her with frightful force and the elf made not a sound more. Aedan got to his feet and lowered his shield; he first made sure that the battle going on around him was finished, and then he looked to Felly. The mabari growled fiercely as she viciously tore the mage's throat out. It seemed that his mabari warhound had saved herself from the mage's power by having some magical resistance and fortitude.

"Go man the gates! Keep those bastards out as long as you can!" Ser Gilmore ordered pointing toward the main doors to the hall. The grand entrance was barricaded shut with benched and overturned tables.

The knight anxiously approached the two Couslands, "Your Ladyship! My Lord! You're both alive! I was certain Howe's men had gotten through!"

Aedan sheathed his sword and exclaimed with urgency, "Have you seen my father?!"

Sir Gilmore used the back of his grey iron gauntlet to wipe the blood and sweat from his brow. "He was looking for you two. He told us to hold the hall for as long as possible. When I realized what was happening it was all I could do to close the gates, but it won't keep Howe's men out for long. If you've another way out of the castle, use it quickly!"

Young Cousland's gaze shifted to over his friend's shoulder towards the door across the room which led to the servants' quarters and to the larder.

"Come with us!" the young nobleman pleaded. Ser shook his red-haired head grimly in refusal.

"If I do that you won't make it out before the gates fall. Please go while you have the chance! When I last saw the Teyrn he'd been badly wounded. I urged him not to go but he was determined to find you." Ser Gilmore paused to gesture at the door behind him. "He went toward the kitchen, I believe he sought to find you in the servant's exit next to the larder."

Aedan nodded and embraced Ser Gilmore as a brother before heading for the door.

The Teyrna smiled graciously at her knight with great appreciation, "Bless you Sir Gilmore, Maker watch over you."

Ser Gilmore replied dutifully, "Maker watch over us all!" before he rushed to help hold the doors which were trembling under the enemies force like leafs shaking in a strong fall wind, threatening to concede at any moment.

The mother and son fled. The only resistance they encountered on the perilous route to the larder was two Howe soldiers with a domestic mabari warhound and its Howe Knight master wielding a massive battle hammer. Arrows made short work of the Howe soldiers but the mabari and its master wouldn't be removed so easily. Aedan dropped to the ground and shield bashed the mabari, and like they had with the mage, Felly squared off her master's back and came at the Howe Knight from an angle he had not expected. By the time Felly was upon him with her sharp teeth bared Aedan had cut his legs out from under him and it was all over.

A roaring fire greeted them in the kitchens along with the lingering scent of salt and copper. The cupboards had been looted and all of the tables and barrels overturned in the chaos that was Arl Howe's men. On the floor right before the door to the larder was Old Nan, just where Aedan and Ser Gilmore had left her standing earlier that day. It was hard to believe but there she was, body broken and bloodied among the corpses of her "useless" elf servants. Aedan and Felly stopped to take in the sight of the kitchens but Teyrna Eleanor desperately headed directly for the larder in hopes of finding her husband alive.

The door to the larder flew open and in raced Teyrna Eleanor and her youngest son. Before them on the floor, writhing and wincing in great agony, lay Teyrn Bryce Cousland. He was not dressed in armour of any kind and was covered in blood, likely most of it his own. He clutched at his gut; a wound spurted blood as the Teyrn struggled to speak. "There… you both are… I was wondering when you would get here."

A petrified gasp spilled from the Teyrna's lips and her bow dropped hard to the stone as she rushed to the side of her injured husband.

"Maker's blood what's happening? You're bleeding!" she cried falling to her knees and scooping her battered husband into her arms.

Bryce looked up at her with love and acceptance in his eyes, "Howe's men… found me first. Almost… did me in right there."

Aedan hasted to his father's side, "I'll kill Howe for what he's done!"

Bryce nodded deeply, "He can't get away with this. The king…" he cried out and clutched his side tighter as a burning pain radiated from the wound interrupting his thoughts.

The Teyrna's alarm was rapidly evolving into hysteria as the life in her husband's eyes began to slowly fade into darkness. "Bryce we must get you out of here!" she pleaded, grasping the man and silently willing him to live. He shook his head softly and let it fall to the side as if he was resigning himself to eternal rest on the cold floor. "I… I won't survive standing I think." Every breath for the Teyrn was a challenge beyond anything he'd faced; the pace at which he was losing blood was easily compared to the speed of which a single rain drop cascades from the sky. Aedan gazed down at his parents with mix of love and melancholy, "Then we'll simply have to drag you out."

A deep cough sputtered from the Teyrn and he struggled to ease his family's woes, "Only… if you're willing to leave pieces of me behind, pup."

His wife gasped again, she was now reaching delirium, "Bryce! This is no time for jokes we've got to get you out of here!"

The Teyrn gingerly placed his shaking hand on top of hers and though his fingers were ice cold there was comfort to be found in them, "Someone… must reach Fergus… tell him what has happened."

Eleanor gaped up at what was possibly her only child left. Her eyes were overwhelmed with tears and terror.

"Howe must have something planned for him, too." Aedan said with a heavy heart and a heavy sword hand.

Eleanor continued to plead with her dying husband; she prayed to inspire life into him yet. "Bryce! No, the servant's passage is right here. We can flee together, find you healing magic."

Teyrn Bryce flinched intensely and struggled to console his wife with the inescapable truth regarding what was destine to follow. "Castle is surrounded… I cannot make it."

The Grey Warden Duncan swiftly entered the larder from the deserted kitchen. "I'm afraid the Teyrn is correct." he announced sternly, making his sudden presence know, "Howe's men have not yet discovered this exit but they surround the castle. Getting past will be difficult."

He knelt between Aedan and Eleanor and wore a solemn look on his dark face.

The Teyrna turned to the strange man and spoke quietly, "You are Duncan, then. The Grey Warden?"

He bowed accordingly and replied, "Yes, your ladyship. The Teyrn and I tried to reach you sooner."

She glanced at her son and with a slight smile countered, "My youngest son helped us get here, Maker be praised."

The Grey Warden nodded in response, "I am not surprised."

"Are you going to help us, Duncan?" Aedan's question came more as an appeal, it was almost as if his pride had escaped him for a moment. Their situation was dire but Duncan was a very capable man; all he had to do was name his price.

Teyrna Eleanor felt a wave of panic rise up inside of her. "Whatever is to be done now, it must be done quickly. They are coming!"

The Teyrn tightened his bloodied hand in permissive reassurance upon his wife's and turned his sight to the Warden. "Duncan you are under no obligation to be here, but I beg you take my wife and son to safety."

"I will, your lordship, but I fear I must ask for something in return."

"Anything!" Bryce braced himself against his wife to fight the pain from the extra blood lost by his shouting.

"What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil that has been unleashed on this world. I came to your castle seeking a recruit and the darkspawn threat demands that I leave with one." Teyrn Cousland swallowed hard and approved Duncan's request. "I… I understand.

Aedan shot a glance anxiously at the Grey Warden kneeling next to him. "But what if something happened to Fergus?"

"The king will see justice done. The Grey Wardens, however, must face the darkspawn above all else", Duncan promised the Couslands.

"He is right, pup", Bryce interrupted in a last fatherly gesture.

Aedan didn't feel reassured, especially by his father who was rapidly losing color in his face. The Grey Warden continued, "I will take the Teyrna and your son to Ostagar to tell Fergus and the king what happened. Then your son joins the Grey Wardens."

The Teyrn nodded his head in acceptance has he struggled to keep his eyes from closing. "So long as justice comes to Howe, then I agree."

Everyone in the confined dark space turned their hopeless gazes towards Aedan. Duncan clasped his armoured hand on young Cousland's shoulder. "Then I offer you a place within the Grey Wardens. Fight with us."

Before answering he briefly made eye contact with his parents and was touched by their feelings of love and pride. "I accept your offer" Aedan spoke with a dutiful calm, feeling as though it was the only right thing to say; he hesitated only to leave his father behind.

"We must leave quickly, then" Duncan insisted rising hurriedly to his feet.

Eleanor squeezed Bryce's hand in hers. "Bryce, are you sure?"

"Our son will not die of Howe's treachery. He will live and make his mark on the world."

The Teyrna turned to look at her son as he moved to stand beside Duncan.

She took a long, shaky, deep breath, a feeble attempt to calm her nerves "Darling, go with Duncan. You have a better chance to escape without me." The Teyrn began to manage a whisper of protest but was silenced. "Hush, Bryce. I'll kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time. But I wo

n't abandon you."

"I love you both, so much" Aedan struggled to fight back the sobs creeping up his throat and threatening to unravel his composure.

Teyrna Eleanor looked up adoringly at her son with loving blue eyes. "Then live, darling. Become a Grey Warden and do what it is right."

"I'm so sorry it's come to this, my love" Bryce Cousland coughed blood onto the chest piece of Eleanor's superior leather armour. She gripped her husband's hand even tighter than before. "We had a good life and did all that we could. It's up to our children now."

The Teyrn's eye began to close as he tried not to choke on his own last words. "Then go, pup, warn your brother and know that we love you both. You do us proud."

Duncan shamelessly pressed the urgency of their escape which was not yet underway. "We must go now."

Aedan wiped his tears away with the back of his blood stained glove and battled through his goodbyes as the remainder of the Couslands in their castle smiled up at him, their eyes full of hope and pride. "Goodbye, darling" whispered the Teyrna, the tone of her motherly love was only slightly overshadowed by a note of worry.

Without turning back, Duncan, Felly and young Aedan Cousland made their way through the secret larder door and into the darkness below the late Castle Cousland.


	4. Chapter 3

Ostagar

I can promise any readers that from here on dialogue and plot will be original until it changes the Blight entirely. Although the party will still brave the Wilds, meet Morrigan and Flemeth, and undergo the Joining, it will revolve around the adventures of my original characters rather than Alistair, Morrigan, etc. For example, events involving the Fade will take place in Jader rather than Redcliffe or the Circle Tower. It's because Duncan was able to recruit Cousland as well as Amell that the paths of the Wardens in Ferelden change. The fanfiction will include the other origins that were not recruited and left to their fates (except Surana), as well as original characters.

***Feel free to browse the original character profiles I have posted on my Tumblr blog. The URLs for the three pages are listed on my user profile. I wrote the profiles and this fanfiction for them to be read, so if you want to see them and the URLs don't appear or don't work, just message me and I'd be more than happy to send them to you. I guess ignore the reviews I posted trying to give you the URL.

After biding her time at Ostagar awaiting the arrival of Duncan, Solona befriends a dwarven Ash Warrior and her mabari. Just as she opens her eyes to the true corruptive capabilities of the darkspawn Duncan, Aedan and Felly reach the king's camp. The party of Grey Warden recruits departs for the Kocari Wilds in search of the Warden's cache.

**Disclaimer**

I do not own any of the character of Dragon Age, nor the world of Thedas itself. They are all the property of Bioware and EA Games.

For a time Alistair, a Grey Warden of five months, and Solona travelled south through The Hinterlands to the ruins of Ostagar on the edge of the Kocari Wilds. The Tevinter Imperium built Ostagar long ago to prevent the Wilders from invading the northern lowlands. It was now fitting that the forces of Ferelden make their stand here, even if they faced a different foe within those forests. The king's forces had clashed with the darkspawn several times, and Ostagar was where the bulk of the horde would show itself. There were only a few Grey Wardens within Ferelden, but they were all here. This Blight had to be stopped because if it spread to the north, Ferelden would fall.

One month after her recruitment, Solona stood in awe of the size of the Tower of Ishal. It was impossible to notice anything else; she had dreamt of one day seeing it with her own eyes. She had found solace in the tomes and scrolls within the library of the Circle Tower. As a result, Solona's knowledge of the Tevinter Imperium and its history within Ferelden was very comprehensive. The nearby colossal tower, named after the Archon that ordered its construction, was abandoned along with Ostagar after Tevinter's collapse during the First Blight. It was successfully sacked by the Chasind Wilders and then, as the Chasind threat dwindled following the creation of the modern nation of Ferelden, it fell to ruin completely. This was the fate of most other Imperial holdings in the south. The Tevinter creations remained unmanned for centuries, though most of the walls still stood, Ostagar remained a testament to the magical power of the Tevinter Imperium that created it. Solona revelled in the nobility of it all as she and Alistair began crossing over the bridge toward the western side of the ruins, which contained the Grey Warden recruits' camp.

Her companion bore a hefty burlap sack of potatoes over his shoulder and Solona clutched a woven basket filled with dirty carrots and pea pods. She sighed tiresomely as the grand tower left her field of sight. Tonight would be no different than any other spent waiting for Duncan to arrive.

Some nights she aided Senior Enchanter Wynne in brewing and bottling refined lyrium potions.

Some nights she visited the army's kennels and cooed over the soldiers' mabari warhounds.

Some nights she sat wordlessly by the fire, watching Alistair and the other recruits shovel beans or stew into their mouths.

Every night since she had arrived, she felt like an outsider, even amidst the strong presence of The Circle of Magi at Ostagar.

At the mouth of the camp stood a soldier in modest leathers and chainmail, he wagered Solona that Ostagar had not seen this much bustle in centuries. Most of the Grey Wardens were in the valley with the army, but the recruits were confined to the king's camp.

"You can't swing a dead cat without hitting somebody important", the soldier chimed as Alistair and Solona passed by. The Warden chuckled like he was hearing the joke for the first time and entered the camp with a bright disposition. He led the mage into the site and veered north, as he did every time the pair was sent on an errand. They approached a set of bold and colorful tents that reminded Solona of a carnival she had seen in a book about Rivain. The former templar spotted a few mages in the campsite; unfortunately, none of them were fiery temptresses but his interest wavered only slightly. As the Wardens loomed further, an enormous imposing figure in steel full plate templar armour stepped in front of them. The templar was putting on airs by flashing his intimidating Chantry shell. Alistair stopped in his tracks and leaned forward cautiously.

"The mages must not be interrupted. Their spirits are in the Fade, they are not to be disturbed. Not even by Grey Wardens," he stated flatly as a Tranquil would. Alistair's passionate curiosity for the arcane was insatiable; it made Solona uneasy.

It seemed like he made nightly attempts to uncover the story behind her suspicious recruitment into the Grey Wardens. On days when Alistair wasn't confiding in her about his lyrium trade conspiracies, he was revering the contents of her leather-bound spellbook. One night she caught him rummaging through a velvet satchel of hers that contained lyrium in its natural powdered state. Upon confrontation about his snooping, he stirred in surprised and rained red powder down the front of his armour.

Alistair readjusted his grip on his load of tuberous roots as he beseeched the templar; he had to know what the mages were up to tonight.

Solona pleaded with him,

"Let's head back to _our_ camp, this templar smells like dog shit." He glanced over his shoulder opposite the burdening sack and retorted,

"Now Sol, you've gone and hurt this good fellow's feelings". She noticed the cavalier's weight shift noticeably, but his templar helm bore no visor and thus his reaction to her statement remained a mystery. What did it matter to her what he thought of her _now_, as a Grey Warden recruit outside of the Circle? It didn't matter, and here was Alistair practically drooling for any bone the Chantry could spare to toss him.

The winged tips of the templar's helm shimmered in the sunlight as he turned his head, remaining silent. Never did they have anything to say; they only watched. Solona had met one or two exceptionally social templars in her life, but she wasn't sharing her tales of Circle fraternization with anyone.

"Have I hurt this chump's feelings? I care not! Quips and insults can hurt!" She paused and inhaled acutely, "If you keep sticking your nose into templar affairs, then you'll discover that what _really_ hurts is to be struck in the teeth by a steel gauntlet".

The mage stormed off infuriated; the Chantry and Circle of Magi were present at Ostagar merely to play the roles of two stark different Fereldan factions in the battle against the darkspawn. Surely it wasn't the intention of King Cailan to call upon the nation's immense and inspiring Chantry along with its Templar Order simply to have them childmind the Circle mages.

Back at the Grey Warden camp, Alistair caught up with the fuming mage. They found the recruits Daveth and Ser Jory sitting by the fire. The Knight of Redcliffe was honing his blade and the rogue from Denerim was skinning two rabbits for the insipid stew the assemblage had planned for that evening. Solona approached the knight with his greatsword and dropped the basket of peas and carrots at his feet. A trivial eruption of orange stalks and green leaves drew his eyes to the ground, but he soon returned his attention to his whetstone. On the night they met at Ostagar, Solona had listened to the knight's tale of winning a tournament in Highever and having to leave his now-pregnant blue-eyed beauty, Helena. Since then she often did her best to resolve Jory's worries about the encroaching Joining ritual whenever possible.

"Word from Teyrn Loghain," he stated without looking up. "We're to expect Duncan and his recruit from Highever today".

She had seen little of the Teyrn at camp, and she knew even less about him. He was a man apart from King Cailan, indeed. At first glance it was impossible not to revel in the master craftsmanship of his silverite full plate armour. The leader of Ferelden's army was black of hair and had a stern look about him. The combination of his cold exterior, oversized pointed nose, and pungent odor of dog feces yielded a villainous expression that was almost comical to Solona.

Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir had earned his title as Teyrn of Gwaren by fighting as a lowborn commoner in the name of King Maric Theirin at the battle of River Dane. The fair daughter of the Teyrn, Anora Mac Tir, rose to the rank of Queen of Ferelden by marrying Cailan Theirin five years past. Solona was unable to put a face to her graceful name, she instead recalled a few soldiers saying that the king was drinking with the Grey Wardens in their camp because him and the Teyrn had been fighting for days.

Daveth laid the fresh rabbit carcasses inside a cast iron pot of boiling water that hung from the fire's spit. As Alistair placed the sack of potatoes atop a nearby tree stump, he remarked on the impending return of the Warden Commander.

"Duncan was to visit Redcliffe Castle before continuing to his destination in the north. I hope he queried the Arl's court to send a score of knights; even soldiers would suitably aid our cause. Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week."

Solona had never met Arl Eamon, but she knew him as the younger brother of Rowan Guerrin; the wife of King Maric, mother to Cailan, and Queen of Ferelden before Anora Mac Tir.

Guerrin knights would certainly drive back the Horde in a truthful and monumental style. Cailan had hoped for a war like in the tales! A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god! She chuckled at thought of riding into battle atop of majestic griffon and thought: _a hot meal might be nice, first_.

Solona seated herself on a crude ash fireside bench between Daveth and Alistair. She removed a single potato from the burlap rucksack and rolled it pensively in her hands. She inquired of the former templar, "What should we expect to happen at the return of our Warden Commander?"

Alistair gently threw open the sack and stabbed an earthen tuber with his dagger. He mulled over the question briefly as he effortlessly diced the potato into quarters.

"He'll have his newest recruit with him; a knight, most likely. Then we'll begin preparation for the Joining ritual, and once it's done we'll assign all our new Wardens within the ranks of the Fereldan army."

Solona nodded in response, as though his approval had any effect on her answering the call of the Grey Wardens. She mutely observed Jory begin to prepare the carrots for the stew as Alistair continued his chain of potato butchery. She handed him the earthen root she had been holding and he received it from her with a smile.

She inquired coyly, "Do you know much about darkspawn?"

He countered her question without a moment's pause, "I know some, do you know much? Do you know about the connection between them and the Fade, for example?"

Solona smirked, she may have been a newly declared mage at the time of her recruitment, but she had completed her Harrowing with outstanding haste and success.

"What does the Fade have to do with anything?" Daveth probed the pair, taking a bite from the tip of a dirty carrot.

For the first time since her and Daveth started speaking, Solona did something that was not a mimic. She nervously fingered several vials filled with blue liquid that were attached to her belt.

"Anytime your spirit leaves your earthly body, whether it's to dream or to die, it passes through the mortal veil and into the realm we call the Fade. It is home to many spirits, some compassionate, others sinful and wicked. At the heart of the Fade lies the Black City."

The rogue nodded in vague agreement,

"I've heard that. Didn't something bad happen there?" Solona reached into her cotton-lined leather mage's satchel and withdrew her brilliantly bound grimoire. She briefly regarded Daveth and batted her large eyelashes a few times before turning to its centerfold page to reveal a miniature mural of the fouled throne of The Maker.

"Some say the Black City was once the seat of the Maker. But when the mages from Tevinter Imperium found a way into the city it was tainted with the sin of their self-seeking endeavours". She leaned toward the fire dramatically and turned the book's pages for all to behold. "That divine blight transformed those men, and the Maker cast them back into Thedas where they became the first darkspawn".

Amusement flooded the campsite as Solona turned the tome's sepia pages to reveal frightening Fereldan history; the monstrous origins of the Blight.

"That's just something the Chant of Light says", quipped Daveth; a man apart from the Chantry.

"And it is all true", Ser Jory proposed the idea with confidence in Solona's inspiring insight of the Fade. She grinned at the knight, but slammed the grimoire shut with a brash _thud_ as a Revered Mother of the Chantry approached the fireside party.

Her dawn-colored robes and forcefully tight braids were a familiar sight for Solona, as well as Alistair.

Demurely she beckoned Alistair for a moment alone to speak of Chantry matters that required Grey Warden resolutions.

Chantry initiates and priests just loved letting the mages know how unwelcome they were at Ostagar; or anywhere outside of Kinloch Hold, for that matter. The Mother's affairs habitually put Alistair in a bit of an awkward position, as a former templar.

Solona rolled her eyes as Alistair compliantly got to his feet. The revered hag-faced battering ram wielded guilt like a sword to make her desires a reality, which really made the mage's hackles rise to the amusement of the on looking Daveth and Ser Jory.

"Please bother someone else with your pitifully pious requests," Solona demanded.

The revered mother gasped in exasperation, and Solona replied with a superficial scoff in mimicry. Alistair turned back to the mage with a furrowed brow and her gaze, simultaneously discomfited and proud, plummeted to the embroidered detail that covered the front of her spellbook. After the hurried departure of their senior Grey Warden, the recruits eyed Solona momentarily before returning to the task of preparing a subpar Fereldan rabbit and puny vegetable stew.

The chainmail-clad gate guard slowed his pace as he passed by the Warden recruits' fire. _You can't swing a dead cat without hitting somebody important_, was the only thought Solona could conquer at the sight of him. Apparently such a phrase is something one in the lowest ranks of the Fereldan army assumes is appropriate to be associated with; he exclaimed it each time newcomers entered the king's camp.

"The Grey Warden Commander has arrived, my lady", he spouted in passing. She raised her gaze from her grimoire and smiled at the soldier in fleeting interest as she bolted from the campsite, tome in hand, without a word to Daveth or Ser Jory.

She sprinted to the mouth of the camp and gawked out at the immense valley. Duncan, a knight and his mabari wearily turned from the King's Highway into the far eastern end of the fortress of Ostagar. As the three travelers stepped out into the sunlight from beneath a stone arch they were approached by a party of men: two royal guards adorned in impressive veridium chainmail and steel shields bearing the duel hound crest of the king, and the golden-haired king himself, wearing brilliant golden full plate. King Cailan bore an imposing greatsword slung over his back and it gleamed in the cold sunlight as he waved his hand in a friendly greeting. The cavalier king shouted and the men exchanged words for a time.

The knight often wrinkled his brow and shot nervous glances toward Duncan. News from the north had been unreliable. No doubt he wished to make contact with the northern Teyrn's son, Fergus Cousland. Unfortunately, he and his men were scouting in the Wilds and were not expected to return until the battle that night was over.

The knight reached down and patted his mabari atop its head; the hound was panting steadily in the chilled daylight. The Warden Commander motioned for his recruit to step ahead of him and they walked together for a time apart from King Cailan and his guards, with the warhound right at their heels.

Solona was ecstatic to meet the newest recruit's mabari companion, but felt far less so about the man himself.

Just what she needed, another Alistair.

She was to be surrounded by men scraping at the Chantry's feet and unremittingly inquiring about the affairs of the Circle of Magi.

_So you're an apprentice? How long have you been a fully declared mage for? What did you do to catch Duncan's attention so effectively?_

Solona shuddered at the thought of revealing Duncan's veiled motivation behind recruiting her from the Circle; her treachery delved deeper than destroying Jowan's phylactery.

_Maker, I never wanted things to end the way they did, but the death of Surana forced my hand._

Tears filled her gem-like eyes, and she clutched her grimoire tight against her chest. The Grey Wardens did not necessarily have to recruit another mage for Solona to have an understanding comrade, but living in the Wilds and hunting darkspawn would be a harsh reality for her to live without a friend. As the three travelers neared the entrance to the king's camp she cowardly crouched behind an abundant juniper bush.

Duncan was just as much a stranger to her as the new recruit from Highever; the reality of it was that she met the Warden Commander once. The only feature she vaguely recalled about the man was his striking steel armour. She stifled a self-pitying sob as the trio passed by the shrub.

Duncan and the knight greeted Daveth and Ser Jory alongside their boiling rabbit stew.

Solona was able to hear the rudimentary plan that Duncan was laying out from her bushy haven.

They had until nightfall to begin the ritual.

Every recruit must go through the secret ritual called the Joining in order to become a Grey Warden.

The ritual was brief, but some preparation was required.

He stated that his newest recruit was not the only Grey Warden initiate he had; there were three others, not including Alistair. Duncan instructed the knight to leave his mabari with him and go seek out the Grey Warden named Alistair.

Solona sighed and mulled over the thought of introducing herself to the knight, _I'll be Alistair's not hiding in a juniper bush._

The mage slothfully shielded her face with her spellbook as she climbed out of the fir bush, but she could not bring herself to approach Duncan; she hadn't seen him in a month. She kept walking.

Scaling a slate incline to the north led Solona to an engaging ruin occupied by the aroma of soil and greenery rather than the stench of warfare. A mossy trail lead her passed a long wooden table being fussed over by elf servants, and up another slope. The mage breathed in the mountain air deeply and topped the plateau to catch sight of soldiers in shimmering grey iron splintmail. Like most of the king's men, these too bore swords, shields and pleased smiles.

She ascended a nearby limestone ramp. The area that opened before her enclosed decorative red and yellow canvas tents as well as cots for resting soldiers. The fleeting sights were soon overcome by the reek of gangrene and excrement; she found the infirmary area of the king's camp.

A priestess was preaching to a group of well-faring soldiers about seeking the favour of The Maker and receiving His blessing.

Kinloch Hold's chapel had shaped Solona to believe that faith in The Maker, true faith and not just convenient pleas for aid, was a luxury for the upper classes and castes. She had spent enough time around Chantry initiates and priests to know that they disapproved of those who had their own gods, like the elven pantheon; but they also feared the darkspawn.

Among the splintmail-clad soldiers, a burly brunette dwarven woman covered in kaddis paint, tattoos and rough leathers looked down at her faithful warhound. Solona found herself helplessly surrendering to her desire to approach the mabari and excitedly pet it.

The mage knelt before the bulky canine, and she turned her sapphire eyes upward to latch onto the pensive gaze of the dwarf. The warrior said nothing as Solona fussed and tussled with her mabari's fur.

"He such an amazing creature", she batted her lengthy eyelashes and beamed in a front of illusive innocence, in case the dwarf belted her across her glass jaw for handling the beast.

"To an Ash Warrior, a hound is as much a weapon as a blade", responded the tattooed dame in a delighted tone.

She eyed the blond beauty grinning from ear to ear as the warhound pawed at her orange mage robes.

"Oh, how I wish I could imprint a mabari warhound of my own!" Solona clasped her hands together joyfully at the thought of a furry, smelly, troublesome companion. She continued to smile with her platinum hair blowing gently in the frosty air.

The Ash Warrior and Solona conversed courteously about Ostagar and the need for king's men as well as mercenaries. She was Natia Brosca, formerly of the casteless status in the grand and superficial dwarf city of Orzammar. She spoke little of the background story leading up to her recruitment into the Ash Warriors, but she confided in the mage about her facial tattoo marking her as worthless.

Casteless dwarves were branded with a tattoo at birth to mark what they were: dusters to be considered non-people with no rights because they were rejected by The Ancestors.

Solona empathized with Natia, but told her only about her life as a Grey Warden recruit.

_Dwarves understand the Wardens best. They respect that when one becomes a Grey Warden, one's old life ends._

The Ash Warrior inquired about the Wardens' successes against the Horde here at Ostagar.

Was it truly a Blight, or just a large raid?

Natia had seen the horrors within the king's camp; she had been here since the start of the campaign. A lot of men had been tainted by the darkspawn blood. Scouts found them in the Wilds and brought their madness back to the encampment as a weak and dejected method of inspiring morale. Some of the tortured soldiers they brought back weren't even tainted; they were just terrified.

"I've been around since the beginning so listen here, lass. The darkspawn, they taint the land by turning it black and sick. When the men and their hounds become tainted they can feel it inside. They'll come out of that forest and spread their taint; we're going to be swallowed whole".

Solona looked around, reeling from the terrifying image painted for her by the seasoned dwarven warrior. Men and elves were falling ill when exposed to darkspawn blood just like the hounds. A man suffering from the taint lay on a soiled cot nearby. His iron armour was heavily coated with pungent black ichor.

He exclaimed in great agony, "We've got to run the darkspawn are coming!"

Solona cringed and hastily treaded backward until she bounced off a nearby spruce tree.

"I'd really rather talk about the Circle", she blurted without thinking.

Natia paused, but soon probed the mage's knowledge of lyrium. She found the color of lyrium to be rather inconsistent outside of the dwarven kingdom.

Solona hastily hoisted her leather grimoire up between her and the Ash Warrior; its pages fell open to reveal knowledge of the substance's power in potions, enchantments and explosives.

Its raw ore, found in the Deep Roads or the Fade, was cyan or greenish blue, whereas _Lyrium Dust_ was red and _Lyrium Sand_ was purple. The dwarven items _Lyrium Nugget_ and _Smuggled Lyrium_ were also purple, but were described by mages of the Circle as unprocessed lyrium artifacts, which contradicted the depiction of raw lyrium as greenish.

Natia whistled as Solona thoughtfully turned the book's most worn pages. The dwarf was very intrigued by the concept of enchantment, but unfortunately for her, the superior power in the rune warranted a grander price.

A smile crept onto her tattooed face. Natia was no longer a flea-ridden dwarf duster without a coin in her purse.

Unexpectedly, Duncan's Highever recruit advanced on the two mabari enthusiasts and they both gaped at his boldness.

The Ash Warrior scowled behind her pasty white face paint,

"What do you need? You haven't brought more instructions from the Teyrn, I hope." The fledgling knight stole a quick glance at the mage, and then he countered the dwarf's question in a snappy uncooperative tone.

"Do you talk to everyone like that? I'm a Grey Warden and I have business with this here recruit. Now, get out of my face. Your kaddis paint smells like rotten fish!"

There was an awkward pause between the three of them before Natia spoke,

"I suppose our war party should begin scouting." With narrowed eyes she made her way past the knight-errant without locking eyes with him. She nodded pleasantly at Solona and signalled for her mellow mabari to follow.

The recruit from the north was now standing before Solona. He was of average size and smelled nothing of dog droppings; which as uncommon for Fereldans that spend time training or traveling with mabaris.

"A moment ago I bid a Tranquil mage a good day, he and I then proceeded to have an enlightening chat about lyrium and its role in enchantment. I've since considered getting my Cousland sword and shield enchanted; could have employed the magic while bravely battling a mage back in Highever. Can't you just imagine what my flaming sword and frost resistant shield would look like? Surely I would not employ Tranquil skills to install enchantments to just _any_ article of clothing". He rubbed his muddy hands together anxiously, "I will enchant the Cousland blade and ram it right through Arl Howe's wicked and traitorous heart".

"What's your name?" He asked her, at last. The knight spoke and admired her features; as he did the first time he met any woman, most likely.

The young fellow crossed his arms in preparation for her bitter verbal distaste of him, but Solona said nothing.

She merely folded her arms in mirrored response while continuously glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the army's hound kennels.

He unfolded his arms and she did the same.

The knight paused and then introduced himself with a polite bow; once again she mimicked him.

Solona discovered that this exquisiteness' name was Aedan Cousland, youngest son of the northern Teyrn. As he recited the terrible tale of his recruitment in Highever Solona felt empathy rising within her.

She confided in him that this was her first time outside of the tower in which Ferelden's Circle of Magi was housed and she could never again go home; just like Aedan. Solona briefly explained how she had come to be recruited from the Circle by Duncan about a month ago, and that she believed that the Grey Wardens were going to be a new family for her.

"To defeat the darkspawn we all have to work together. It's not an idea everyone seems able to grasp", Solona continued to copy Aedan's various movements as she detailed her subjective view of the crowds congregating at Ostagar. She indicated her fears indirectly, "At least the upcoming Joining ritual has given us something to ponder".

He nodding with a friendly tact, Solona had made an impression on him.

"Yes, occasionally it's wise to contemplate one's actions", he chuckled. She shot a quick glance toward the templars on the north end of the camp.

"I'm sure Duncan has more for you to do than talk to me", the mage smiled and strode past Aedan in the direction of the Grey Warden's haunt within the king's camp.

He treaded northbound down the mud-covered slope toward the mage's colorful tents.

Timber crackled as it burned, stacked in a square-shaped pattern; the smell was divine compared to the war camp's infirmary. Aedan and Alistair approached the tall fire from the north and were greeted by an eager thief, an unsettled knight, and a stoic mage.

Duncan enquired,

"You found Alistair, did you? Good. I'll assume you are ready to make preparations." He turned to the senior Grey Warden with a stern look, "assuming, of course, that you're quite finished riling up mages, Alistair." The former templar fidgeted somewhat, but went on to calmly explain that the revered mother ambushed him. The Warden Commander continued his unyielding expression. "She forced you to sass the mage, did she? We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don't need to give anyone more ammunition against us." Alistair dropped his head and apologized shamefully. Solona swallowed hard and looked to Aedan's mabari to break the tension; his prized bitch was eager to meet her.

The four recruits would be heading into the Kocari Wilds to perform two tasks, alongside Alistair. The first was to obtain four vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit. Aedan, without thinking, began to inquire about the Joining ritual aloud; he assumed that surely the other recruits were just as curious.

"What do we need darkspawn blood for? This isn't blood magic…" he awkwardly glanced over his shoulder at the mage, Solona. "Is it?" He probed. Solona met his gawking gaze with her jewel eyes and calmly rolled them in mockery,

"Malificarum don't publicly identify themselves as such, Chantry boy. Duncan will explain more about the Joining once we've returned."

Duncan peered down briefly and removed four lesser glass vials from a pouch on his belt and itemized their tasks as he handed them to Alistair. They were moreover expected to retrieve three Grey Warden treaty scrolls. A devilish look of intrigued spread across Daveth's rodent-like features.

"What matter of scrolls are these?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. The Warden Commander folded shut the pouch at his waist and leveled his customarily hospitable gaze with the eager faces of all his potential recruits.

"Old treaties, if you're curious. Promises of support made to the Grey Wardens long ago. Alistair will guide you to the area you need to search."

The man from Denerim smirked at young Cousland, and his face became ever more snakingly scoundrel-like as he did so.

The man continued to grin as he eyed Aedan's coin purse.

The young noble shifted his weight uneasily so as to further distance his valuables from the mischievous bloke.

Solona mused, _how many of us Grey Warden recruits were enlisted by Duncan through conscription?_

The thought of fighting the darkspawn horde with a criminals and Chantry fugitives made her uneasy, but battling a ceaseless swarm of darkspawn without an army at all nauseated her.

Indeed Aedan still had many questions for Duncan, and so did the other three recruits standing around his fire. He stepped toward Duncan as a man prepared to brave the dark Wilds of Ferelden to answer the calling of his new kinsfolk.

"Find the archive and four vials of blood. Understood." It was assumed that the Grey Wardens would one day return to claim their treaty scrolls. They lay abandoned now in an overgrown ruin because a great many things were assumed that had not held true. Duncan smiled sentimentally at the young recruits,

"Watch over your charges, Alistair. Return quickly and safely and may the Maker watch over your path. I will see you when you return."

As the party trooped dutifully for the Wilds, Solona leaned marginally backward to catch a better glance at the shield Aedan bore on his back. It was the shield of Highever and its face still bore the scars of many Orlesian blades. The mage found it quite fetching.

Alistair lead the four recruited from all corners of Ferelden; the men bearing arms and armour and the mage cloaked in a mantle of her own power. What they were seeking in the lowland mountain valley wilds was tainted blood and the Grey Warden's cache. Duncan heeled Felly the mabari hound as she watched her master cross the wooden pike boundaries of the Wilds' northern lowlands.


End file.
